Do ye as the Romans do
by mrwriter1701
Summary: Tempus. Highlanderangel universe sorta. AU with no main characters from show. Just the world. Sequel to When in Rome... The group tries to stay ahead of the Dealer and finding four missing Cardinals. No relation to Angels and Demons!...almost...


Disclaimer: I and my writing accociates own the characters, but not the world. That belongs to the owners of Angel and Highlander.

"…do ye as the Romans do"

Special guest star: Terry Ferrell as Rhea

Teaser:

"I just love Italian coffee!", Mercedes exclaimed and poured herself another cup. The group nodded in agreement, and all held out their cups for a refill.

The Tempus team sat on a small café in downtown Rome, where they had been joined by Father Christopher Vaughn. It was 14 days after their last adventure in Rome and since Cardinal Tauran had asked them to stay in the city until the Conclave. As he had told them, he did not so much expect trouble as he liked to be prepared.

This night, the first night of the Conclave, Father Christopher had left the Vatican after all the Cardinals had been officially locked into the Sistine chapel for the official papal election. He had then joined his new friends for coffee. Only Andrew Picardt was not present, as he had gone with Kat Horton and the rest of the Interpol team back to Switzerland to debrief her.

"So, did everything go according to plan so far?", Herbert asked Christopher.

"Yes, so far. The doors have been locked, and now we can only wait for the white smoke to come from the chimney. That's the signal of the new pope.

"I can't believe that you are still doing this the old fashioned way", Jim said, "Isn't it time to join the modern age and do a public vote or something?"

"The tradition of the Conclave is almost as old as the church itself, Jim. It's not going to change."

"Hey, I was just asking."

Christopher leaned back in his chair and sighed. As much as he respected the Tempus team, sometimes Jim got on his nerves with his attitude against the church.

"What IS it with you and the church, Jim?" Herbert asked, "Why are you always so negative about it?"

Jim looked grim. "Let's just say that when you've lived as long as I have, and seen so many signs that there is no God, it gives you little patience for religion."

"How old are you anyway, Jim?" Mercedes asked.

Before Jim could open his mouth to give one of his usual vague hints at being ancient, Christopher's cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it opt and answered.

"This is Vaughn."

"Father, this is Colonel Matrioso from the Vatican. I think it best that you get to the Vatican immediately. A terrible thing has happened – four of the Cardinals…are missing! Not only that, but it is the four most likely to be elected pope! The Preferiti!"

"I'm on my way."

Christopher hung up and looked at the faces around the table.

"My friends, it seems that what his excellence was afraid of has come true. The Vatican is being threatened, and I am going back there to find out what is going on. Are you coming with me?"

"Of course we are!" Herbert exclaimed and got to his feet. Mercedes nodded as well and said eagerly "I'm in, too!"

"All right", Jim said and got up as the last, "I guess we might as well finish the job and get to that creep, the Dealer."

"We have no way of knowing it is him, Jim."

"I know it is. It's a hunch."

"All right", Christopher said, "my car is parked around the corner. Come on!"

1.

"It looks like a situation", Colonel Matrioso said and handed Christopher the piece of paper he was holding. It had been put inside a plastic binder to protect against fingerprints, but they all knew that there would be none. If you had the means and the boldness to threaten the Vatican, you did not leave something as amateurish as fingerprints.

The letter was a printout from a computer, and they all read it over Christopher's shoulder.

_The hypocrisy of the church is now at an end. Centuries of lies will be revealed. The church has seen its last patriarch – the Pope is dead and there will not be another. You may have noticed the disappearance of the four top papal candidates. They have been captured and will be executed – it is time to make "martyrs" for a modern age._

_The Vatican has been breached. You will evacuate the Vatican City in 4 hours – every soul must leave. If this does not occur in 4 hours time, poison gas will be released, and all, including the Conclave, will die._

_A new era is about to dawn._

_The cards have been dealt and Rome will fall. _

At the bottom of the page, another line was printed:

_The first martyr will be crushed by his heresy, near the monument to Gods long dead._

"What does this Dealer have against the Vatican?" Herbert asked, shaking his head.

"maybe he is mad that they destroyed his Dark Sword", Mercedes suggested.

"That was you, not the Vatican."

"Oh…right."

Christopher put down the note and looked at Matrioso.

"That is most serious. And how did these Cardinals disappear?"

"We don't know, Father." Matrioso was sweating a bit, "They were simply…gone!"

"Well, doesn't this seem obviously easy?" Jim asked, "Why don't we just take everybody out of the Vatican right now? Then nobody will be killed in here, and we can concentrate on finding the four Cardinals."

Matrioso and Christopher both looked at him in amazement. "We cannot terminate the Conclave, Mr. Corrigan. That would be absolutely impossible!"

"I agree, colonel" Christopher said, "however, it might be prudent to draw up an evacuation plan for non-essential personnel. But no matter what, we're not going to break the tradition."

Jim held up his hand disbelievingly. "So…you're just gonna let him kill them, if he means what he says?"

"I don't intend to let anyone do anything. We must try to stop this, naturally."

"All right", Herbert said, "I think we can all agree on that! But how? Where do we start?"

They all peered at the note again, as if looking for clues on it.

"Monuments to Gods long dead…" Jim muttered, "Where are the old temples in town?"

"There are lots of those, Jim."

"Yes, but…the Dealer thinks big…and that whole "the cards have been dealt" thing leads me to believe it IS the Dealer we are...ahem…dealing with. Wait!", he snapped his fingers, "Didn't I read somewhere that the Parthenon is built on an old temple?"

"Yes, it is, actually. A temple for the old Roman gods."

"Then that must be it! At least, worth checking out, right?"

"Yes, indeed worth checking. You go over there. I will have to stay here, for the time being. In the absence of my mentor, I am the one who has to coordinate things here."

"Sure, we understand that", Mercedes said.

"Can we borrow one of the Vatican cars?" Herbert asked?

"Of course. I will call security and have it ready by the south entrance. Keep me informed as to your findings."

The Tempus team nodded in unison, and quickly went to the car. Herbert took the wheel, which Jim scowled over, but they were too much in a hurry to argue.

Herbert brought them quick and discreetly to the Parthenon, which was, naturally, closed for the evening.

"Nothing out here…" Mercedes said, looking up and down the street.

"Maybe the action is inside. Let's see if we can't get an after hours tour!"

Herbert looked for a guard in the small ticket office, but saw no sign of one. "Maybe they don't have guards here."

"I doubt it. This is a historical monument. I think they would have it well guarded at all times. It's more likely that our friend the Dealer had something to do with it."

"Hey", Mercedes exclaimed, "the door is open over here!"

With a suspicious look on their faces, Jim and Herbert both came over to her, and true enough, the door was open.

"Curious…let's look inside", Herbert said, and they nodded.

The Parthenon was a huge, circular room with a large hole in the roof. Around the sides and under the floor, hundreds of graves of famous people rest, their names etched in marble. But Jim, Herbert and Mercedes did not stop to look at the graves of Rafael or Bernini. Their attention was focused on the object in the middle of the chamber.

It looked mostly like an executioner's podium, made of wood and covered with black cloth. On it, a man was tied in place, lying flat on his back. And above him, hanging in a string that looked about as gossamer thin as a spider web, was a huge bundle of rocks. It was clear what the purpose of the stones was, and even more clear as their eyes followed the thread down to the podium. The trap had been set so if the man moved in any way, the stones would fall…and that included trying to untie the ropes.

Jim's mind worked as fast as lightning.

"Herbert...can you push those stones?"

"What?"

"Can you use your magic to push the stones when they fall…alter their trajectory?"

Herbert pushed his glasses in place with a finger. "Yes…I suppose I could, but…"

"All right, then here is what we do. When I cut those ropes, the stones will fall. You need to push it away from me, while I carry the guy to safety. You push to the left, I'll jump to the right. All right?"

"I…yes, all right. I understand."

Jim pulled his sword out of his coat, and measured the distance to the ropes, making the cuts in his mind.

"All right, ready?" Herbert nodded. "GO!"

Jim ran over to the podium and jumped up on it. He raised his sword, and with two swift cuts, the man was free. But the stones were now falling straight towards them.

Herbert reached out his hand, feeling his magic leap from his fingertips. The stones seemed almost to hesitate in midair, hanging there as if to consider which way to go. Then, they fell to the left, at the same moment that Jim grabbed the man in his arms and jumped with all his strength to the right.

The marble floor shattered under the weight of the falling stones, but Herbert knew he had done it. He had pushed them just far enough away, so that Jim and the man were safe. Now, all they needed to worry about was the bill for the floor.

"He's okay", Jim said, looking up at them, "just been beaten up a bit, and in chock. We should get him to a hospital."

"I'll start the car!", Herbert said, "there's one 3 blocks away."

"Wait, Jim", Mercedes called out, "there is something around his neck, look!"

Jim looked. Around the Cardinal's neck was a piece of paper in a string.

"The next lead, I assume. Here, I'll take that!" Jim lifted it off the man's neck, and handed it to Mercedes. Then, he ran for the car, holding the man in his arms.

2.

"The second will die in the lion's den. Unlike Daniel there will come no angel", Mercedes read to Christopher on the phone, as Jim and Herbert was checking the Cardinal into the hospital, "what do you make of that?"

"I would say it could only be one place. The Coliseum. I would suggest you proceed to it immediately when Jim and Herbert come back."

"We will." Mercedes hung up, and saw her two friends coming down the steps towards the car.

"Father Christopher said we should go to the Coliseum!" she said, as they reached her.

"Just as I thought. Well, get in. This time, I'm driving!" Jim got behind the wheel, and Herbert exchanged a look with Mercedes before getting in. "Um…Jim, are you sure that's such a good idea? I mean, you're kind of used to driving in San Francisco, but Rome's a lot different…"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be fine. Let's go!"

Jim started the car, and turned out on the street, heading for the expressway. He almost missed the turn, but with the tires screeching, he turned onto it, and started doing a fast slalom between the other cars, while Herbert and Mercedes clung to the handles in the ceiling of the car.

"Dios mio, Jim! You drive like my cousin Juan! Slow down!"

Jim didn't listen, but almost hit the side of a truck. Herbert could hardly control himself from grabbing the wheel…and when they almost rear ended a red mini, he DID grab it.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jim cried out with anger in his voice.

"I'm trying to avoid a high speed collision. Christ, Jim, how long has it been since you drove in another city than San Francisco?"

"A long time. Look, last time I was in Rome, the streets were full of chariots, OK? I'm doing my best here…fuckin' spaghetti drivers…"

Herbert shook his head, and just held on tighter.

Father Christopher hung up the phone, and looked over the papers on his desk. He knew he had to stay behind, to coordinate things from the Vatican. There was a need for someone to keep the big picture, to have the overview the others lacked….but he felt so useless behind the desk.

The Lord's work was done out there.

He pushed the intercom. "Have the papal helicopter prepared for launch in 4 minutes. We're going to the Coliseum!"

"Father Christopher just sent me a text message. He says he will meet us at the Coliseum" said Mercedes from the back seat.

"How can he do that? He's in the Vatican, and that's halfway across town!" Jim said, narrowly avoiding hitting a newsagent on a corner, and making a sharp right turn with two wheels hitting the sidewalk.

"He didn't say."

Herbert pointed out the front window. "There's the Coliseum, coming up on our left side. If you turn here…" He didn't have time to finish the sentence before Jim threw the car into a sharp turn, cutting across 5 lanes of traffic and then hitting the brakes so hard that they all felt their seatbelts lock. Horns honked behind them, and Herbert could have sworn he literally felt his heart stop for a moment.

"Jim…please…don't ever do that again…" he whispered, with Mercedes nodding emphatically from the back seat.

"Sorry if I scared you…but we're in a hurry, right?"

"Right. But we'll be no help to the Cardinals if we become road kill on Via de Fori Imperiali!"

Mercedes, who had unbuckled her seatbelt and gotten out, pointed up. "Look, guys!"

A helicopter, bearing the Vatican seal, came flying low over the rooftops, passed them, and went into hover over the Coliseum. They could hear the rotors beating as it hung on the other side of the walls.

"That must be Vaughn. How typical. When you're high enough in the hierarchy, you get to beat the traffic!" Jim muttered.

"Well…how do we get in?" Herbert asked, looking up and down over the façade of the Coliseum, lit up by spotlights.

"I think there is a door open over there", Mercedes said and pointed to a dark shape next to a ticket booth. Herbert pushed his glasses in place and got out of the car, with Jim right behind him. They walked through the ticket booth, and under the arches that led inside. They had to walk up several flights of metal stairs to get level with the platforms from which you could view the central arena, but when they stepped out on the platform, they all froze and stared in amazement.

The arena, where Christians had once fought lions for the amusement of the aristocrats of Rome had been opened up to reveal the labyrinth of corridors beneath it. Down in those corridors and rooms, gladiators and animals had waited for their cue to step into the arena and fight for their life.

Now, in the centre of the labyrinth, a man was tied to a pole. And from 8 places in the labyrinth, hungry growls came from 8 male lions that headed through the stone corridors towards the centre…and the Cardinal. Above it all, the helicopter hovered with its blades whipping the air, and from it, being lowered on a stretcher, came Father Christopher, armed with a large knife…and a cross.

"We've…got to stop those horrible lions", Mercedes said.

"Yes, we do. Herbert, go left. I'll go right."

Jim pulled out his gun from his shoulder holster, which made both Herbert and Mercedes look at him with wondering eyes.

"I thought you said you never used a gun, Jim?"

"No, I said I RARELY use a gun. This is one of those times. Come on, let's go!"

Jim jumped down and landed on the upper edge of the wall of the labyrinth. Then, running on top of the wall as if it was a tightrope, he ran towards the 2 lions on the right. Herbert stood for a second, and then pulled out his own gun and handed it to Mercedes. "Here. I have my magic. That's probably better against these pussies."

He jumped down and ran to the left. Mercedes, staying on the platform ran towards the center, holding the gun with both hands.

Herbert quickly got close to one of the lions. He raised his hand and pointed to it, summoning the magic that made a bolt of lightning spring from his fingertips. With a crackle of electricity, the lion was struck by the lightning bolt and fell like a sack of stones. Herbert put his finger up to his lips, mimicking a gun and blew on it. He looked around to see if Mercedes had seen his kill, but she was out of sight. Then, from his left, he heard a scream of pain. He quickly turned a corner and saw Mercedes lying on the ground, holding her ankle. Her face had an expression of pain – and her attention was so much on it, that she had not seen the lion creeping up on her from behind.

Herbert ran forward, feeling like he was running in slow motion. Mercedes looked up and at him coming, her eyes looking right at him. She saw his face and knew something was wrong, but before she could fully realize what was going on, Herbert swept her up in his arms, and retreated a couple of steps, while he fired a lightning bolt at the attacking lion. It roared in pain and fell down dead. Mercedes gazed admiringly up at him, while he held her close and kept running.

Jim ran on top of the wall, taking aim with the gun at the lion beneath him. He had been moving stealthily so it had apparently not noticed him. He aimed for the head of lion and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot sounded loud between the stone walls, but the lion did not fall down. In fact, it seemed to be more enraged than hurt. It looked up at Jim and jumped for him, but the wall was too high for it to reach him. He aimed again, but this time, he was struck by bad luck. Just as he pulled the trigger, a loose rock under his shoe gave way. He waved his arms around to preserve his balance, but to no effect. With a cry, he fell feet first into the corridor, hitting the floor on his butt. The gun fell from his hand, and he stared up at the rather angry looking lion that came closer, licking its lips in an almost human gesture.

3

Christopher felt the stretcher make contact with the ground, and jumped out. He looked up at the helicopter above him and saw that the pilot had stopped lowering. He was a professional.

Quickly, Christopher began cutting the bonds of the bound Cardinal, who looked at him with eyes that shone with both wonder and fear.

"Who…who are you?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Christopher Vaughn, Vatican Library. But this is not the time for formal introductions. Hold still, while I cut your bonds, you excel…"

"Behind you!" the Cardinal cried out in a hoarse whisper.

Christopher turned his head and saw one of the lions coming straight at him from a small side corridor. He grabbed for something in his belt, and pulled a small gun out. He raised it and fired in a fluid motion, but instead of the normal gunshot, a whistling howl was heard. A bright ball of light hit the lion, and it roared in pain and fear. Fire began crackling in its mane.

"Flare gun. Standard equipment in the papal helicopter."

Christopher finished cutting the ropes, and the Cardinal fell limply in his arms. Quickly, he placed him on the stretcher.

Herbert came running out of the darkness, his face exited. "Hey, father! We got the rest of the lions! Jim is somewhere over there dealing with the last ones now. Is the Cardinal all right?"

"He seems to be unharmed. Help me strap him in. Then, we will fly him to the hospital."

Mercedes joined them, crawling down from one of the bridge platforms.

"Look, Father Christopher. Another clue!"

Christopher looked at the small piece of paper tied to the pole. He pulled it off and read:

"_The third will burn in the flames of his heresy in the grand square_"

Jim slowly reached under his coat, not taking his eyes off the wounded lion. He grabbed the hilt of his sword and pulled it out slowly. The lion came closer slowly, walking with a confidence that was almost spooky. It knew he was defenseless. At least, it thought it knew.

Jim had begun to sweat. Normally, he faced mortal danger with certain stoicism – one of the perks of being an immortal. But an unpleasant little voice had begun whispering him in his ear – that a lion's paw could probably take off his head just as well as a sword could.

The lion growled, and its muscles flexed. It was getting ready to jump him.

Jim rolled around and dodged, calling the Quickening to improve his speed. He felt the lions paw cut through the air next to his head, felt its claws connect with his coat and ripping the sleeve to shreds – and then, he swung the sword. He put all his force into to the blow, and the blade sunk into the lions throat, taking the head clean off. The huge brown body fell to the floor with an audible thump, and Jim got covered in a spray of blood, soaking him.

He wiped his eyes just in time to see the other lion come round the corner, and running to attack. This time, though, he was prepared. Within seconds, the lion had joined its friend on the floor in pieces.

Jim wiped the blood from his face and ran for the center of the labyrinth, just in time to see the stretcher holding the Cardinal vanish into the helicopter's side door.

Mercedes and Herbert were climbing the rope ladder that had been thrown out from the helicopter, and Christopher was holding on to the bottom of it, holding it in place. He looked at Jim, who was covered in blood.

"Jim, what happened to you?"

"Don't ask. "

"You look terrible."

"Yeah, but you should see the lion. Is the Cardinal okay?"

"He's all right. We have found a new clue. Climb up, and we can discuss it on the way to the hospital."

"All right, I suppose. Our car is parked outside, though…"

"The police will be here within moments, Jim. And even the Vatican doesn't have the license to blow up national monuments."

"What do you mean, blow up?"

Christopher pointed to a pile of rubble, and Jim nodded. "Oh…"

"The helicopter can take us faster around the town. We can pick up the car later."

"Yeah, you're right."

Jim climbed up the ladder, followed by Christopher. As soon as they had climbed aboard, the pilot pushed a button and the ladder was pulled back up. "Whereto now, Father?" he called.

"The hospital, as fast as you can."

The pilot nodded and banked to the left, taking the helicopter away from the Coliseum. Below them, they heard sirens and saw flashes from police cars coming closer.

Jim crawled forward to the cockpit and tapped the pilot's shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to have a set of spare clothes somewhere, would you?"

The pilot nodded. "Sure. There's a jumpsuit in the box behind you."

"Thanks." Jim fished out a cigarette, but before he managed to light it, Christopher grabbed his wrist.

"You're not lighting that thing in here, Jim!"

"Why not? I just had a stressful experience and need to unwind."

"Jim, you are in the pope's private helicopter, with an injured man. I am going to insist that you put off the stress relief until we land."

Jim was about to push the issue, when he saw the iron gaze Christopher sent him. This was apparently not a subject for debate, and Jim felt a swell of respect inside him for the priest. He put the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket and opened the box the pilot had indicated.

"Oh man…you have GOT to be kidding me!"

"So, what square is the Grand square?" Mercedes asked, leaning forward in one of the seats and looking at Herbert.

"I have no idea. Rome is full of large squares that it could be. Peter's square, Piazza del Poppolo, Piazza Navona, and a dozen others. Ask Father Christopher – he is a local."

Christopher, who returned from the cockpit heard the last of the exchange.

"I would say it could be either one of them. And fortunately, the flight to the hospital will take us over 2 of them. Keep an eye to your right, Herbert – Piazza Navona will be coming up on your right side in a minute or two."

He was interrupted by Mercedes giggling, as Jim crawled out from the cockpit. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit of the kind rescue workers wear. It fitted very tight around his body, and he looked mildly uncomfortable.

"Jim…I don't really know how to say this…but I don't think orange is your color!"

She giggled again, and Jim shook his head, looking at Christopher.

"You guys SO owe me a new suit after this!"

"Guys, I think we might have to make a short stop here, before going to the hospital", Herbert said, pointing out the window. Below them, Piazza Navona glittered in the night like a jewel chest, and in the middle of it was a flickering orange light. A bonfire had been lit on the square, and in the middle of it, looking like a witch being tried for her sins, was a man tied to a stake.

"The third Cardinal. And if I'm not mistaken, in a minute or two, he's going to be very crispy."

Christopher began giving orders quickly. The pilot put the helicopter in hover and deployed the stretcher, while Herbert and Jim slid down the ladder. Herbert holding a fire extinguisher, Jim holding his sword.

The moment his feet were on the ground, Herbert began whispering a spell. His idea had been to create a pile of sand to fall down on top of the fire and extinguish the flames, the way you would shovel dirt on a campfire. Unfortunately, whether it was the heat from the roaring fire or the sound of people behind hem disturbing him, he was unable to concentrate fully. Only a few handfuls of sand appeared, and that was not even enough to put out a fifth of the fire.

"It's no use!", Jim shouted, "use the extinguisher!"

Herbert raised the red fire extinguisher and began spraying foam on the flames. This had more of an effect, and a path opened up in the flames that Jim used. He jumped into the fire itself, counting on his healing powers to protect him from the burns. He knew he was the one of the team that had the best chance of getting out relatively unscathed, so it had to be him.

Taking a few steps through the flames, Jim reached the pole and the bound Cardinal. He had lost consciousness, and already looked severely burned. Jim used his sword to cut his restraints, and tried to find his way out again. But the flames disoriented him, and he turned his head back and forth, trying to get his bearings. The heat was making his head swim.

Something heavy hit him in his head, and he saw it was a blanket. Probably one of those heavy blankets he had seen in the helicopters' aft compartment. He wrapped it around the Cardinal, and at the same time an opening appeared in the flames. Jim saw Herbert standing with his arm waving, spraying foam with the other. He ran for the opening, and a few seconds later stepped out in the cold air on Piazza Navona. The crowd cheered them, but Jim did not care at that moment. His face hurt, and when he let a hand touch it, he could feel his cheeks blistering with burns – and his eyebrows were gone. He sighed. This was really turning out to be one of those days. When he found the dealer, he should get all the discomfort Jim had felt, back - with interest. If the son of a gun had eyebrows, Jim was going to make him eat them, hair by hair.

Herbert quickly placed the wrapped Cardinal on the stretcher, and gave Christopher the signal to pull him up. Then, he turned to Jim. "Can you climb up?"

"Of course I can", Jim said, shaking his head to clear it. "It will just take a couple of minutes, then I'll be fine again."

"You do know that you lost some facial hair, right?"

"Shut up."

Jim began climbing, while the crowd began coming closer to Herbert. People were asking him a thousand questions, and he tried to avoid answering any of them, while waiting for Jim to be high enough that he himself could start climbing.

Finally, they were back in the helicopter, and the pilot flew off towards the hospital.

Jim sat back in a seat, feeling the skin on his face smoothing out again and the blisters disappearing again. His eyebrows would grow back in a couple of days, but for now, he settled for wiping his face with a moist cloth. Mercedes, who sat next to him, leaner over against him, opening her purse.

"Jim, if you want…I can draw some eyebrows on you…?"

He sighed.

"I think I'll survive, Mercedes. But thanks."

Christopher, who had been taking care of the burned Cardinal, now looked up. "The Cardinal here has another clue for us. It was around his neck, and slightly burned, but still readable."

He cleared his throat:

"_The fourth will die by the blade of the inquisition. Many will witness his long fall."_

4

The helicopter landed on the rooftop of the Santa Maria hospital, and was met by nurses and doctors, along with two of the Vatican Swiss guards. They were going to handle the guarding of the Cardinals, while the doctors worked on them. As the two Cardinals were carried from the helicopter, Jim stood on the roof a few meters away, smoking a cigarette. Christopher was talking on his cell phone, but snapped it shut and walked over to the helicopter again.

"I have spoken with the Vatican museum. Apparently, there was an artifact misplaced…a nice word for saying it was stolen…yesterday from the museum. A guillotine."

"And this nobody knew about?"

"They apparently thought it might have been sent to restoration and the order for it simply been misplaced."

"So we need to find a guillotine?" Herbert asked, "Where do we start."

"The message speaks about a long fall. Then, it must be someplace high up, with a lot of people assembled below."

"Saint Peter's square. There are thousands assembled outside the Vatican waiting for the white smoke" Herbert's voice was exited.

"The guards assure me that there is no sign of the guillotine on the Vatican façade. It would also be very risky for the Dealer to kill the Cardinal right in front of the Vatican."

"What else is high up?"

Christopher thought for a moment. "The Spanish steps! It has to be there. Pilot! Fly us to the Spanish steps at once!"

Christopher jumped into the cabin, and as the rest of them followed him, the rotors began beating again. The helicopter lifted off and headed northeast.

"I don't see anything yet…wait, there is the steps", Jim said, looking through a set of binoculars he had found in the cabin – this helicopter seemed to have it all, "I see something…it looks like…it IS a guillotine, placed right on top of the steps. And there's a guy in it!"

Christopher shouted to the pilot over the sound of the engine: "Fly closer and get us down there!"

"Herbert", Jim said, "Can you use your magic at this distance?"

"Depends on what I have to do", Herbert said, looking a bit unsure.  
"Can you bend the wood in the guillotine?"

"Bend the wood? What do you mean?"

Christopher, who saw what Jim was getting at, said: "A guillotine is a blade that slides between two pieces of wood in a narrow space. If the wood somehow got bend out of shape, the knife would stop and the Cardinal would be safe."

"I'll try", Herbert said, "Then give me the binoculars."

He held them to his eyes and looked closely at the wooden sides of the guillotine. He ignored the man in it, he ignored the people around it that seemed not to want to do anything about the fact that there was a man locked in an instrument of death 3 feet from them – and he felt the magic energies flow through him. In the binoculars sights, the wood creaked…and bent.

As the helicopter landed on the ground, Mercedes, Jim and Christopher were out in seconds. "Quickly", Herbert shouted, "it's like something is fighting me and straightening the wood again!"

Christopher got the wooden restraint loosened and began pulling the unconscious Cardinal out. He had fainted as well, although more from shock and fear than from pain. When Herbert let go of the wood with his magic grip there came a splintering sound as the wood straightened – and the knife hit the hard metal of Jim's sword, blocking its descent. Christopher got the Cardinal clear, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"We did it!" Mercedes shouted excitedly, and jumped up and down.

"And it wasn't even that tough!" Herbert said, giving her a high five.

"You're right", Jim said.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm right."

"No, I mean…does anyone else here feel like we have been led around by the nose for the past couple of hours? We have gotten to the place the clues led us every time, just in time to save the Cardinals. Like it was all set up for us."

"Yeah", Herbert said, "I guess…now that you mention it…it all was a bit too easy…"

"Well, I don't know about THAT", Jim said, touching the place where his eyebrows had been a couple of hours ago.

Christopher looked at him, while his mind worked fast "Led around…following these clues…keeping us moving…keeping us…away from the place he really wants to strike!"

They looked at each other, and the same thought rang through their heads. Then, they ran for the helicopter, Jim and Herbert carrying the unconscious Cardinal between them.

As they climbed into the cabin, Christopher shouted only one word to the pilot, but it was enough.

"VATICAN!"

5

Already as the helicopter flew over the wall of Vatican City, it was obvious that something was wrong. There was absolutely no sign of activity in the courtyards or on the walkways and terraces. Christopher took that as a bad sign.

The pilot landed the helicopter on the helipad behind the Sistine chapel, and they all crawled out, ready for anything. They were met with a deafening silence.

A couple of Swiss guards were lying in a adjacent corridor, spread out on the floor like they had been struck down by something that had taken them out in an instant. Christopher felt their pulse, and could still feel it. Good. At least the Dealer had not yet made good on his promise to kill everyone in the Vatican City.

"This place is huge…where do we go?" Jim asked.

"Saint Peter's basilica."

"How do you know?"

Christopher smiled enigmatically. "God is showing me the way, Jim."

Jim sighed. "Great."

As they moved through the corridors, they found more people, guards and priests – but fortunately not many and all of them only sleeping. The colonel had apparently decided to evacuate all non essential personal.

As they reached the large doors to the basilica, they all stopped and listened. The Vatican was quiet as a grave for a moment, and then - from somewhere in the huge church, they heard the sound of a door closing.

"How many exits are there from this place?" Herbert asked Christopher.

"Lots of them. But only one door sounds like that."

"Which is that?"

"The one that leads down to the most sacred site in the Vatican. The Necropolis."

"Is that the place where…" Jim began.

"Yes. The place where, if I remember correctly, you said "old Pete" was buried. The rock on which the church is built. And whoever it is that managed to put the Vatican to sleep and attempt murder on the four Preferiti just decided to take an unscheduled tour down there."

"Well…then what are we waiting for?" Mercedes asked.

Christopher took the lead again, leading them across the church floor to a small and rather modest looking door. It was closed, but a key was in its lock. Christopher opened it without a sound, and a staircase led downward.

"Let's do this quietly. The closer we get to the guy, the better!" Jim said, and they all nodded. Then, Christopher started to take point, but Jim held him back.

"Vaughn…no offence, but maybe I should go first. That guy packs some heavy mojo, and as an immortal I have a lot better chance to survive it than you do if you go first."

Christopher didn't say a word, but stepped back and let Jim walk ahead of him down the stairs.

The lights from the basilica soon fell behind them, and the stairs were pitch black. They all held their hand on the wall to keep their balance in the darkness, and walked as silently as they could. It seemed like the stairs went on for hours, but finally, the wall vanished and the darkness became more grey than black.

"This is the Necropolis!" Christopher whispered. "We are deep under the church, but airshafts were drilled hundreds of years ago, as well as the natural cracks. So it should be a bit brighter. But tread carefully, the floor can be quite crumbling!"

He was right. Light came down in hundreds of small cracks, making the graveyard a landscape of shadows. And about 200 meters away, they could see a bright light from a flashlight.

"Spread out!" Jim whispered, and they began moving carefully through the shadows, getting closer to the light. As they got closer, they could see that the flashlight had been placed on a tombstone, shining its light on a person lying on the hands and knees on top of another tombstone. The person seemed to be oblivious to their presence, but when they stepped into the circle of light from the flashlight the person looked up. Jim gave a surprised exclamation:

"The Dealer's a GIRL?"

The girl on the floor looked up at them, and brushed her dark hair out of her face. Her voice was musical and with a hint of an American accent.

"One out of two isn't bad. I'm not the Dealer. But I am a girl. Any other bright observations you care to make?"

In a fluid motion, she got to her feet and faced the Tempus team. She was wearing a black leather jumpsuit that seemed to flow around her like oil, fitting close to her skin. Her face was beautiful and her eyes dark and full of amusement.

"Well, this IS the crack squad, isn't it? A priest, a Mexican, a mage and a …what?"

"A surprise", Jim said, absentmindedly, going back to his old standard reply.

The girl chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Surprise, huh? You look more like an ambulance driver in that orange jumpsuit."

"What are you doing here?" Herbert asked, his voice taking on the edge from his days in the German police.

"Well, what does it look like I'm doing, pal? I'm rubbing, aren't I?"

"It's hardly the time or place to collect souvenirs" Christopher said dryly.

"I'm not. I'm doing what I got paid to do. Getting this rubbing. Now, are you guys going to let me finish it?"

"What did you do to the people upstairs?" Jim asked

"They're asleep. I chose to interpret the wishes of my employer a little more compassionately than originally intended. I don't kill unless I have to."

"Do you think that excuses what you have done?" Herbert said, "You still kidnapped 4 Cardinals and almost killed them!"

"I did no such thing. I'm a thief, not an assassin or a kidnapper."

Jim cleared his throat. He had a hard time taking his eyes off the girl. _What the hell is this?_ He thought to himself, _I feel like a schoolchild! _"Look, miss…I think this little game has gone on long enough. If you're not the Dealer, tell us where to find him."

"I don't know, and even if I did, do you think I'd tell you guys? It would give me a bad name if I started blabbering about my clients."

"We need to find him, right now. Tell us" Herbert said, unconsciously taking on the part in the good cop/bad cop routine he and Jim had played several times, "we have lots of ways to get the information out of you, and asking is just one of them."

The girl smiled self-confidently.

"I'd like to see you try."

Herbert lifted his hand, wanting to use a spell to stun her until they could bring her to a safer place than in this dark graveyard, and the air crackled with magic.

Jim, who had traced a glimpse of her escape plan from the tone of voice she used, took one step forward and put his one hand on her neck, making sure his skin touched hers. With his other hand, he grabbed the piece of rubbing paper and held on.

The girl's head turned and her eyes locked with his.

"Hey! No touching the merchandise!" she said and blinked – and in the next instant, she was gone. Herbert's spell hit only a black leather jumpsuit that for a moment held the form of her body- and then crumbled to the floor.

"Verdammt!", Herbert said, "Are you ok, Jim?" Jim nodded.

"She had some sort of teleportation device! Magic or technologic, I don't know. But I've never seen one work like that before."

"I know. I thought I might get a piggyback ride when our skin touched. But at least she left what she came for."

He raised his hand. In it lay the crumpled piece of paper with the rubbing of the grave stone."

"Dios!" Mercedes exclaimed, finally getting her voice back, "she must be very powerful to do that stuff. But what would she want with a gravestone?"

Christopher knelt down and looked at the stone that the girl had been rubbing on. It was old, he could tell, older than most other stones he had seen down here before. And the writing on it…

"This is ancient Mesopotamian", he said, letting a finger trace it, "or at least I think it is. But I can't read it. There seems to be some letters that I don't know."

"Look, Father – the top is missing" Mercedes said and pointed.

"Right you are. This leads me to believe that whoever sent this woman down here already possesses the other part of this stone – and will go to great lengths to get the full text."

Jim bent down and picked up the small pile of leather, which had just a few moments ago been a jumpsuit. He held it in his hand, and felt something small and hard in one of the pockets. He quietly unzipped the pocket, and felt something it there. A small plastic envelope. He stuck it in his own pocket, and slung the clothes over the arm. It felt warm against his fingertips, like the heat from the body that had been inside it still clung to it. It also had a soft smell to it – leather mixed with a very subtle perfume.

Christopher's cell phone rang, which startled them all. Jim quickly lowered the jumpsuit from his nose.  
"The Vatican's cell phones work this deep underground?" Herbert asked, impressed.

"Yeah, God boosts the signal strength", Jim said, while Christopher pulled out the phone and answered the call.

"Christopher? This is Cardinal Tauran. We have just had the strangest experience. It seems…"

Christopher cut him off.

"We are aware of what has happened, your grace. We managed to corner the person responsible, but unfortunately she got away from us. I'll meet you in your office shortly to fill you in."

"I will see you there."

Christopher hung up.

"Are we done down here?" Mercedes asked, "Because this place is giving me the creeps."

"We are done. I have told my mentor that we will meet him and explain the case to him. I hope you will all care to join me?"

As Jim returned to the Cardinal's office, wearing the clothes that one of the Swiss Guards had provided him with – jeans, a shirt and a jacket instead of the horrible jumpsuit – the rest of the group had finished filling the Cardinal in on the events of the evening.

While he was changing clothes, he had looked at the little purse that the girl had been keeping in her pocket. It was the sort of envelope a travel agency gives with the airplane tickets, and contained a ticket to Rome from London, a return ticket – and a passport and identity card issued to Rhea Weston, 5 South Kensington Place, SW7, London, England.

"So, that is as much as we know now", Herbert finished his part of the story.

The Cardinal leaned back in his chair. "We still have the rubbing?"

Christopher held it out to him.

"No, keep it, Father. I must tell you that the Vatican takes these incidents very, very seriously. We need to have this threat eliminated as soon as possible."

"I could not agree more, your grace", Christopher said, "unfortunately, we don't seem to have many clues to follow as of now. The woman used some sort of magic to teleport herself into and out of Vatican grounds, and we can find no trace of her. She could be anywhere in the world by now."

"Actually", Jim said, pulling the papers out of his pocket, "I think she might be in England."

He quickly told how he had found the envelope in the pocket of the clothes.

"I also think we might get something out of the clothes themselves. A good enough mage might find some sort of link to her from her clothes. Herbert, that's more your area…what do you say?"

Herbert nodded. "It is possible. I might have to check with my mentor or pull a few strings to find someone good enough to do so."

The Cardinal leaned forward again, and fixed his eyes on them all. "Good. Because I would like you to handle this situation, as well as the matter of the rubbing you mentioned. I will give you the offer to work for the Vatican until this…situation is resolved. There will be a Vatican jet at your disposal, to take you anywhere in the world you wish to go. Your expenses will be covered, naturally, and we will of course compensate you for any delays. Just find this Dealer and resolve this situation."

"I have some recourses I would like to look into in Oxford", Christopher said, "I have a collection of books that might be of some assistance in translating the text on that grave stone rubbing. Also, I would like to check it with the British Library at King's Cross in London. I am sure that given time, I can translate it. And that might give us some more concrete clues."

"So…do we have an agreement?" the Cardinal asked.

Jim, Mercedes and Herbert looked at each other. It was clear that they all felt exhilarated by this offer.

"Cardinal…Andrew Picardt is still with Interpol…when he is done with them, will it be possible for him to join us?"

"Naturally. Simply send the jet for him when he wishes to join you."

Jim nodded satisfied. "We'd better call Murph and tell him to close the office, buy himself a ticket and meet us in London."

6

The night had fallen on the Vatican – now once again filled with all the evacuees. The Conclave, interrupted by the sudden unconsciousness induced by Rhea had been resumed and people outside were still waiting excitedly for the white smoke to rise, declaring the new pope. The Cardinal had decided that the incidents that had transpired during the evening had best be kept quiet, so no reporters had been granted information on it. It was simply added to the lore of conspiracy surrounding the Vatican.

Herbert and Mercedes had been strolling in the Vatican gardens, when they came upon father Christopher sitting on a bench, silently looking at a fountain. Herbert was almost glad for the interruption – he had been having horrible doubts over if he should try to hold Mercedes' hand. It seemed such a trivial thing to do, and the hand was right there, so near…and yet, he did not know if the time was right. Now, Mercedes sat down next to Christopher, while Herbert stood next to the bench.

"You look so sad, Father", Mercedes said. Christopher shook his head.

"Not sad, Mercedes. Just thinking. I have enjoyed my time here immensely. And now, I go to new challenges and have to leave this place that I call my home."

"You know the Lord works in mysterious ways, or so I've heard."

Christopher smiled.

"Bless you. And right you are. And like I said, I am not sad. Merely thinking about the future and the past. And of course, enjoying one last stroll in the gardens."

"Yes" Herbert said, "We were enjoying them ourselves. They are exceptionally beautiful."

"I often come here to gather my thoughts if I am troubled. It is one of the most peaceful places I know."

Herbert, who felt the fatigue creep over him now that he no longer had the adrenaline rush of the chase or being alone with Mercedes to keep him alert, yawned.

"What time were we flying to London again?"

"Seven o'clock. A car will take us to the airport from the west gate at a quarter to seven. Did you find the rooms we set you up in?"

"Yes", Mercedes said, "and they are lovely. Even though, not as lovely as the Pope's apartment."

"Well, I'm afraid we cannot provide that."

"Doesn't matter", Herbert said, "I wouldn't care, as long as there is a bed. I think I'll go find mine now, actually. See you tomorrow, father."

"Goodnight, Herbert."

Mercedes got up. "I'll walk with you."

They left Christopher on the bench and walked to the buildings housing them in silence. In front of the one where the few female visitors – including Mercedes – were assigned quarters, she stopped and looked up at Herbert.

"Good night, Herbert. And thanks for being with me here tonight."

"No problem. I…I enjoyed it."

Mercedes' dark eyes looked deep into his.

"So did I. Sleep well."

And she was gone, the door closing behind her.

Herbert walked away, then stopped and turned around. Had the door creaked ajar just a little bit? No, probably just his imagination.

He wondered where Jim had gone off to – he hadn't seen him since he had left to pack their belongings in their hotel.

Jim picked up the payphone and put in the phone card he had just bought, paying cash. Better to be careful.

First, he called the English information number, to get the number for 5 South Kensington Place, SW7, London, England. After he got it and jotted it down in his notebook, he dialed it.

The phone rang once, and then an electronic voice said "Please enter the code."

Jim thought for a moment. Then pressed 666. He had not been friends with Bob for 50 years for nothing.

"Incorrect code."

He tried 12345. In his experience, a lot of people had that code on their answering machines and their luggage.

"Incorrect code."

Jim swore under his breath. And then, a flash of inspiration came into his mind.

He was standing in a train station, and next to the phone booths sat a woman reading the book "The Da Vinci Code", a book that had made Jim both fascinated and amused when he read it last year. And in that book, the code had been…

He pressed 1123581321. The line of numbers known as the Fibonacci sequence.

There was a click. The phone was picked up, and a female voice said: "Hello"

"Is this Rhea Weston?"

"That depends on who is asking, doesn't it?"

"My name's Jim Corrigan."

"Oh right – you are the guy in the orange jumpsuit."

Against his will, he smiled. "Yes, that's right. And speaking of clothes, I have some of yours. You want me to drop them by your house sometime?"

"I don't think so. I tend to know guys a little better before I invite them home."

Jim's palms felt sweaty. What was it about this girl that made him so much on edge?

"So you managed to solve my access code, Jim. That's somewhat impressive."

"Well, you're not the only one that read the Da Vinci Code, you know."

There came a sound like fingers snapping.

"Oh, you're right. I really got to change it!"

"Look, Rhea…we need to talk. About the Dealer."

"There's nothing to talk about, Jim. I already told you, I can't give away information on my customers. It would destroy my reputation…not to mention it would literally destroy me."

"Do you even know what this guy is and what he wants?"

"I make it a point not to ask. That way, I can't be dragged in to conversations like this one."

"Look, this is not exactly a discussion I want to have in a public place. I'm on a station in…."

"I know where you are, Jim. I've known since your second attempt to punch in a code."

"…but this guy has it in for me. He tried to kill me on several occasions, and he kidnapped and tortured one of my friends."

"You see? I'm just trying to keep my slate clean, so I don't get in trouble. I'm in enough as it is."

"Yeah, you got away without your rubbing. I've got it."

There was a moment of silence on the line. Then Rhea said:

"I don't suppose you want to give it to me?"

"That depends. But maybe we could meet in person and discuss it?"

"Honestly, Jim – I don't think that's a good idea. I'd be knee-deep in mages and guys with guns and swords. I think it would be wiser of me to stay away."

"What if I guarantee you that nothing would happen?"

Rhea laughed, and the sound sent a chill down Jim's spine. Not with fear – it was a chill he had not felt for many years. _Great Caesar's ghost,_ he thought, _I think I'm getting a crush on this girl!_

"Why should I trust you, Jim? Honestly, I don't know you from Adam. No, I think I'll just hang up now."

"Wait…"Jim said, his voice sounding strange to himself, "I'm a private investigator. My company is called Tempus Investigations. We're based in San Francisco. We help people in supernatural trouble. We even have a website. You can see I am not kidding. I want to meet you. Check us out!"

There was a pause.

"I might do that…Magnum." Her voice now had more than a hint of amusement. "I'll hang up now. Bye, now."

A click…and the phone was dead.

Jim hung up, wiped his hands on his pants and headed back towards the Vatican.

Epilogue

Father Christopher was crossing the Peter's square, when he heard a voice shouting his name behind him. He turned around and saw Jim coming towards him, pushing through the crowd.

"Evening, Jim. Did you get your luggage transferred to the Vatican?"

"Yeah, I handed it to the guy that will be taking us to the airport tomorrow. He said he was going to put it in the car at once. Vaughn, can we talk?"

"Of course, Jim. Let's have a cup of coffee. Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?"

"Yes, actually, there is."

They went into a small café, ordered coffee and then Christopher looked at Jim, face in an anticipating expression.

Jim tried to find a way to begin, to express the things that was on his mind, and then said:

"Vaughn…why do you believe in God?"

The question did not surprise Christopher as much as it should have. He knew people in a crisis of faith, or what he liked to call a "spiritual awakening" very well, and he had anticipated that it was this subject Jim wanted to talk about. But this might be slightly different than normal soul fishing.

"Why do I believe in God? I suppose…because I can't NOT believe in God. Because I every day see signs of Him, and his hand at work in the world.

"Vaughn…let me tell you a story about myself. Once, I was just a normal human, married and working a normal job. Then, one night, my wife and I were attacked by a vampire. He killed us both."

Christopher nodded and listened, while sipping his coffee. He tried to keep his face neutral.

"Now, I told you, that I am an immortal. You're not born as immortal, though. You have to die first – and die violently and prematurely. Then, if you have the immortal gene in you, or whatever the hell it is, you wake up as an immortal. It turned out that I had. My wife, on the other hand – I saw her lying there, drained of blood by that monster. While I had to go on."

Jim looked up from his coffee cup, and Christopher saw that he had tears in his eyes.

"Now, you tell me, Vaughn: How can a God, who is supposed to be kind and merciful, allow me to loose the woman I loved more than anything in the whole world, and then not even allow me to die at her side and see her again in heaven or wherever cops go. How can he ask me to go on for a literal eternity without her, and even make sure that every time I make friends, I will have to see them grow old and die…while I just go on, same as always? Tell me that."

Christopher pondered for a moment, thinking of the best way to answer.

"I really have no answer for you, Jim. All I can say is there is a meaning to all – and if not, it is our job to make one. If you were made immortal, I am sure that there was some purpose to it, and that purpose might not be clear to you…but that doesn't mean it isn't there. You just have to wait for it to be revealed."

Christopher got up from the table, and put a hand on Jim's shoulder.

"Get some sleep, Jim. Tomorrow, we fly to London."

"Right. Goodnight, Vaughn."

"Goodnight, Jim."

Jim Corrigan needed a cigarette. He had just sat down in a seat in the Vatican jet that they had been allowed to borrow, and the ground crew had removed the stairs and closed the door. He wished he had been allowed to smoke on the flight, but Christopher had made it quite clear that all Vatican means of transportation were non-smoking. He guessed he would have to wait until they landed in London.

He looked around at the team, all of them looking slightly tired. It would take the jet about 4 hours to get to London, and he anticipated that most of them wanted to spend those hours sleeping. When they arrived, they had several goals to attain, but right now, they could relax.

The engines began to howl, as the jet raced down the runway and let go of the tarmac. Jim looked out the window, and saw Rome vanishing under him in the grey, early morning light.

He reached into his pocket, and took out the ID card with the little picture of Rhea Weston. He smiled at the picture. If all went well, he would see her again soon. He really could not put her out of his head…and at the same time, he still could not allow himself to forget, she was working with the enemy. The Dealer's emissary. But then again, he felt a slight irony in this. There was always the dark beauty that tempted the hero. Batman had Catwoman. Sherlock Holmes had Irene Adler. And Jim Corrigan had Rhea Weston. He was in good company.

"When in Rome…" he mumbled to himself, "do ye as the Romans do."

"What did you say, Jim?" Mercedes said from the seat on the other side of the aisle.

"Nothing." He smiled at her. "Just…thinking out loud."

The plane swung to the North West, and left Rome behind.


End file.
